Brittani VanDyken uses the skill of whip handling to challenge herself and lead team-building workshops
During warm summer evenings in front of Bellingham’s El Sueñito Brewing Company, it’s common to hear the crispness of a sonic boom.
The source of the noise isn’t from a gunshot or jet breaking the sound barrier, however: It’s from the crack of a 10-foot whip held by Brittani VanDyken.
The 39-year-old Bellingham resident can be seen often on Humboldt Street, in front of the Sunnyland neighborhood brewery, riding an adult-sized big wheel tricycle and wrangling a cowhide bull whip.
VanDyken, who has lived in Bellingham for five years and Washington for 12, moved to the Northwest from Houston, Texas.
By day, she works as the human resources manager for a remanufacturing company, and leaves workplace tension behind each evening by breaking out her whips; she currently owns 73 of them, she said.
“It ignites this inner-child dopamine that I think we all have in us,” VanDyken said of her routine, which she does daily for several hours during the spring and summer months.
Sometimes, people have unusual responses to seeing her in action.
“Parents always want me to threaten their children (to behave),” she said. “They’re like, ‘I’m gonna get her to whip you,’ and I’m like, ‘I’m not whipping anybody.’”
Skill-building
VanDyken learned how to handle a whip while living in the Seattle area and performing as a pole dancer. An injury shifted the skill to burlesque shows, but when the COVID-19 pandemic put in-person entertainment on indefinite hiatus, VanDyken didn’t want to lose the unique skillset she’d cultivated.
Instead, she began hosting outdoor workshops through a domestic violence shelter in Tacoma, teaching women how to crack whips and regain confidence in themselves.
“Nothing’s going to hurt you but yourself when you handle a whip,” VanDyken said. “You kind of have to be able to digest that, and if you do hurt yourself, you have to push forward. You have to learn from that moment.”
Teaching is something VanDyken seems to have a knack for. After successfully home-schooling two children who are now adults, her whip handling eventually drew attention in the corporate world. Utilizing her HR connections, VanDyken began being hired to lead team-building workshops for Big Tech companies from the Seattle area, including Microsoft and Google.
“They love it,” she said, of her workshops, which include whip-cracking lessons and other team-building exercises like zip-lining. VanDyken is often invited to give the workshops and whip performances at corporate retreats, which often happen in places like Leavenworth.
The allure of danger
The excitement of whip work, she said, lies for many in the realization that they have personally created a sonic boom via the snapping of what’s called the “cracker” or “popper” — the braided piece of thread at the very end of a whip.
“I think when you first get started with the whip, you really hone in on breaking the sound barrier,” she said. “When I teach people, there’s often this distinct smile (they get), like, ‘I just did that.’ There’s like this power that lies behind that smile.”
VanDyken braids her own crackers, since they break often. She often prefers them pink, since the color is easiest to see for most people. Despite the visual aid, injuries are still an inevitable part of her hobby.
She’s received numerous whiplash injuries over the years, with one of the worst leaving a still-visible scar on one of her wrists. In that incident, a poorly executed figure eight motion resulted in the whip fileting her skin open.
“It was just like white, like it was burned,” she said. “It eventually bled, but it was so sharp. It just was like burnt flesh immediately.”
Her largest whip, some 40 feet in length, requires substantial space to operate and can actually pull the person holding it forward when cracked.
VanDyken challenges herself by combining whip handling with various vehicles, including a unicycle and e-bike; she stands atop the seat of the latter. She’s also does fire whipping — coating nylon-made whips in flammable liquid and setting them ablaze.
Brewery buddies
Several years ago, when El Sueñito’s owners were looking at the property they’d eventually build on, VanDyken introduced herself and warned them of her loud hobby.
They had no problem with it. And for the most part, neither do most brewery patrons. VanDyken is always mindful of animals, however, as many dog owners frequent El Sueñito. If owners express concerns over noise, she is happy to move her sessions elsewhere, including outside nearby businesses like Otherlands beer, Stemma West and Greene’s Corner.
VanDyken is happy to provide on-site demonstrations for those interested in learning the art of whip handling, whether in a local park or a brewery parking lot. And in teaching everyone from Microsoft managers to park rangers how to crack a whip, she’s given many people the same inner boost she gains each time she breaks the sound barrier.
“I get a lot out of seeing people gain that confidence,” VanDyken said. “You just can’t ignite (that confidence) anywhere else, other than in yourself. And you can’t ignite it within yourself unless you push to do something that is scary.”
—By Matt Benoit